Uwar Agola Part 1 Complete Hausa Novel

Malam Nura stood in the middle of his compound, dressed in a flowing robe and spreading the scent of the perfume he had drenched himself in. He kept tossing his head about like a lizard. He took two steps, dragged to a stop, flared his nostrils, and began calling out to his wife, the mistress of the house.
“Haule!”
He called once, and on the second call she answered and came out of the room to meet him. He was swelling with pride and self-importance. She looked for a small low stool, sat down, and fixed her eyes on God’s creation. Without even sparing her a glance, he began calling for his other wife.
“Kuluwa, Kuluwa, Kuluwa!”
All that could be heard was silence. It was as if Malam had swallowed silence itself, as though she was not even in the house. He looked at Haule and said,
“Has Kuluwa gone out?”
A wave of annoyance twisted inside her, but she suppressed it and said,
“Come on, Malam, you’re asking a duck for the way to the stream, when it is the hen you should be asking for the story.”
It was as though she had thrown burning embers at him. He sprang up in anger, saying,
“Stop there, Haule. I only asked you about Kuluwa, not for insulting words. You with the parrot’s mouth, once you are asked a question you start pouring out proverbs, as if you are the one who cut the Hausa land’s umbilical cord!”
She ignored him as though she had not heard. Seeing that, he added,
“Am I not talking to you, Haule? Why is it that you women do not protect your paradise, the one you are to gain beneath your husband’s feet? Is it proper for you to disregard me like this?”
Haule, fuming, said,
“You asked me and I answered you, but you said I was speaking badly. You are neither a leper nor blind. Can’t you see Kuluwa’s room? Why not go check whether she is there? They say you are her husband, yet you’re asking me whether she has gone out. If she had gone out, surely you would know. She would have to inform you…”
Before she could finish, he cut her off, saying,
“Well, you’ve heard. I have no time to waste chatting. I’m going to see my bride, so if it is talk you are looking for, then talk to yourself, because even a dog does not bark alone.”
He said this as he turned away, spreading out his robe as he headed toward Kuluwa’s room. Even before he reached it, he kept calling her, first as “Kuluwa,” then even by her real name, Hauwa, but there was still silence.
As for Kuluwa, she heard everything that was happening, but she had no intention of answering, so she kept quiet. When he came in and lifted the curtain to her room, his eyes fell on her sitting in the middle of the room with a calabash bowl in front of her, the light from her lamp filling the room. She gave him one contemptuous look, and he too looked at her disdainfully. Then she lowered her eyes to the bowl before her. She was drinking garri mixed with groundnuts, so she scooped up a full spoonful and put it in her mouth. Before she swallowed, he said,
“Kuluwa, when did I become someone you can ignore?”
She said nothing until she swallowed. Then she put the spoon into the bowl, stood up, and said,
“Wallahi, if you make me lose my temper, I will take your case to the village head and make you pay compensation for me.”
He stared at her in surprise and said,
“Am I killing you that I should pay compensation?”
Rolling her eyes, she said,
“I’ve warned you. Let your chameleon beware of its scabs, wallahi, because…”
He quickly cut her off, saying,
“Alright, mother of jealousy, come outside. I have something to say to both of you. She came out, but you, the one who cannot suppress your bitter jealousy, you are the one puffing up your neck veins. So let me tell you, marriage has no robbery in it. If marriage were robbery, I wouldn’t have married you in the first place.”
After saying that, he turned sharply and walked off. She followed behind him, her heart seething with anger. After all, he knew that when a madwoman is dyed, people say her cloth has been stolen.
At the exact spot where Haule was sitting, he pulled up and stood. She too, on arriving, clasped the edge of her wrapper with both hands and stood there shaking her head like someone waiting for a bowl of millet porridge, then hissed loudly. Malam Nura wasted no time. He cleared his throat loudly and said,
“Without wasting time, because I have somewhere to go, yes, to my bride-to-be who is waiting for me. Good. The reason I gathered you here is to tell you that next week, on Saturday, my marriage will be عقدed. And I want to stress again that whoever wants her stay in this house to continue must make sure she obeys my words and prepare herself to welcome my new bride.”
He said this with a broad smile, especially when he mentioned his bride, as though someone had given him the glad tidings of Paradise.
Haule gave a small mocking laugh and said,
“May Almighty God make it a blessing, grant peace in the marriage, and bring her safely.”
After saying that, she stood up calmly, about to leave, but Malam, as if the words had been snatched from his mouth, said,
“Come on, Haule, it is as if you do not love me. I am telling you about taking another wife, about bringing you a co-wife, yet you are completely calm, as if a rag has been dipped in indigo?”
She gave a little playful sway and said,
“Wallahi, you’ve given me a funny little laugh. Come on, Malam, when something becomes familiar, one gets used to it. What night has a bat not seen except the night of its death? As for my co-wives, if I haven’t forgotten, I think this one makes eighteen.”
Quickly, Malam said,
“Eighteen, did you say?”
Nodding her head, she said,
“Indeed.”
He was silent for a moment, then said,
“Truly, I now remember, that is how your counting goes. Wallahi, I thought it was seventeen. So it means I married Ladiyo first, then later married Kuluwa. Since Ladiyo stayed only three nights in this house before we separated, that is why I usually forget her when counting my wives…”